


Deadly Force

by DiaryofaWriter



Series: The Mazanett Stories [4]
Category: Gargoyles
Genre: F/M, Mazanett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaryofaWriter/pseuds/DiaryofaWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months after a painful break up with Elisa Maza, Owen Burnett learns that she has been shot and injured.  Tensions run high and emotions are at the boiling point as Owen tries to accept how much he cares for Elisa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Puck is female. That is all silvergryphon's fault. Enjoy!

The evening was almost quiet, after the day's excitement at the docks, and Owen could not help but be a little relieved by the idea of an evening to himself. He so rarely enjoyed time alone, even with Mr. Xanatos in prison as he had been for the past several months. Not that Owen had complained about all the work. For much of the last few months, he had been grateful for it. It gave him an excuse to think of anything but a certain detective.

Elisa Maza. She was a woman without equal in Owen's mind. He had never met anyone so single-mindedly stubborn and infuriating. And yet, he had still pursued her. Even while she exasperated him and drove him mad with frustration, she was one of the most enchantingly lovely mortal women he had met. Not only that, but she was intelligent, strong-willed, and passionate. Naturally Owen could not help but be drawn to her. She was almost the exact opposite of Owen's own personality, and it intrigued him to be around her.

At least it had been, until a little over five months ago, when Mr. Xanatos had completed his project of transporting the Scottish Castle Wyvern to the top of the Eyrie Building in Manhattan. The intention behind the project was to determine if a certain legend with regards to the Gargoyles that rested upon the walls of Castle Wyvern truly would waken at sunset once the castle "rose above the clouds." The experiment had been a success, and Elisa had befriended the creatures. 

Then she discovered the fact that Mr. Xanatos had betrayed them. Owen admitted that it had been a foolish choice on his employer's part. And not just because it had cost Owen his relationship with Elisa. 

Or perhaps he was lying to himself, the soft voice of Puck whispered in the back of his mind. After all, Owen had become _so_ adept at lying to himself in the last several years. This wouldn't be the first time that he had attempted to deceive himself about anything.

Owen hastily pushed the Puck's whispering aside. It would not do to give in to her little comments now. All it would do would be to drag him farther into the depression he had nearly fallen into after Elisa broke off their relationship. That had been the single worst day of Owen's life since Puck first created him a little over eleven years ago. He could still hear her voice shouting accusingly at him.

 _"And what about me? Was that all an act? Did Xanatos assign you to me? Why else would you choose me? I'm a cop, and you're boss isn't exactly squeaky clean. I am the_ last _woman who you would go for if you were sane."_

He had been unable to say anything to convince her that her accusations couldn't be farther from the truth. While he _had_ been asked to keep an eye on her during the gala when they first met, he had pursued a relationship with her out of genuine interest. She was not the sort of woman that he would usually go after, it was true. Puck had taken a variety of lovers in the several millennia that she had been alive. From the cold and secretly passionate Lady Elva of Avalon to saucy tavern wenches in the seventeenth century, Puck had sampled all the delights that both men and women on both Avalon and the mortal world had to offer. But none of those past lovers had been anything like Elisa Maza.

She was a woman of great passion, who had snarked with Owen as though she could care less how powerful he was. Her irreverence for power had intrigued him. As had her great lust for life and vibrancy. It had also intrigued the Puck, who had often made the suggestion that perhaps she should attempt to get to "know" Elisa herself. Naturally, Owen had pushed Puck back when she made _that_ suggestion. He was not about to allow Elisa to become another of Puck's little toys, because against all odds, he had begun to truly care for the police detective. And through his own loyalty to David Xanatos, he had possibly lost Elisa forever.

So he had thrown himself into the work that he had. And for the last several months, it had been sufficient to keep his mind off of her. It did not help that for the first time in weeks, he had been in the same room as Elisa Maza. All she could do was glare at him viciously, and the sight had twisted at Owen's heart. But even Owen Burnett, the seemingly emotionless personal aide to David Xanatos, needed to have a night to himself now and then. And after the fiasco at the docks with the stolen weapons and Tony Dracon--it had to be Dracon, as no other criminal in the city would be stupid enough to steal arms from Xanatos--Owen needed a night to himself even more than before. 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Owen sighed and turned on the television to watch the evening news. Perhaps the police had been able to pin the theft of the weapons on Dracon already, though Owen seriously doubted this. He meant no disrespect to New York City's police force, but there were times that snakes like Dracon proved to be too elusive even for the most determined of detectives to pin anything on. To his surprise, there _did_ seem to be a story related to the theft running. Curious, he turned up the volume to see what had been discovered.

 _"In relation to a recent theft of several 'non-projectile weapon prototypes' from Xanatos Enterprises,"_ the young female news anchor was saying as Owen turned up the volume, _"the lead detective on the case, Elisa Maza, was found outside of the emergency room of Manhattan General, critically wounded by a gunshot wound to her stomach, and doctors are unsure if she will survive. The police have refused to comment on this unfortunate event thus far, but witnesses have stated that Detective Maza was seen in heated argument with gang leader Tony Dracon earlier in the evening, leading many to suspect that he was behind the shooting. Tony Dracon is also suspected to be behind the theft of firearms from Xanatos Enterprises. He was unavailable for comment on either case. In other news--"_

Owen didn't hear the rest of what the woman on the television said. His hold on the mug of coffee in his hand had gone slack and he was vaguely aware of the sound of ceramics shattering on the floor.

Elisa was hurt. Owen's chest constricted tightly, and even Puck was silent from shock at this revelation. How could this have happened? Why would it happen? Why Elisa, of all people?

The questions ran in circles through Owen's mind like a sick merry-go-round. Over and over, with no answers in sight. He felt sick to his stomach, and the desire to be violently ill had a great deal of appeal to him at the moment. But he could not give in to that desire at the moment. There were questions to be answered and he had to find a way to go and answer them. Unfortunately, Owen could not go marching through the streets of Manhattan and questioning average thugs about a cop being shot. Neither could Puck, as she stood out far too much and was far too passionate and lively to remain in the shadows long enough to listen in with regards to this case. Owen's best bet was the Gargoyles at this point. 

Ignoring Puck's sense of insult at his decision, Owen made his way to the tower where Goliath usually spent his days during his stone sleep. It was far too close to dawn for the Gargoyles to do much good at this point, but they needed to know now, while the news was still that; new. Owen came up behind the large Gargoyle, trying to keep his tone even as he spoke, and feeling as though he was failing miserably at it.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," he said quietly.

"What is it?" Goliath demanded testily. "Speak quickly!"

Owen forced himself to speak the next words. He had to, if Elisa was to be avenged. "Your friend, Elisa Maza, has been shot," he said evenly, amazed that his voice did not break when saying her name. "They're not sure if she'll live."

Apparently the news effected Goliath as powerfully as it had affected Owen. The Gargoyle gave a gasp that Owen was certain would become a yell of rage had the sun not risen then, and he was frozen in a pose of complete shock and anger. Owen couldn't say that he blamed the Gargoyle. He felt much the same as Goliath did currently. Now to work. That was the only thing that he could do at this point.

***********

Owen was not sure how much longer he could remain in his office, doing mundane paperwork and trying to forget about Elisa, lying in the hospital, probably in surgery, and possibly fading out of life. Gritting his teeth, Owen bit back a feral growl and looked up as the clan of Gargoyles--minus Broadway, he noted with only passing interest--charged into his office. Finally. A distraction.

"How did it happen?!" Goliath demanded, storming up to Owen's desk.

Once more, Owen called upon a little over eleven years of practice at self-control to hide how truly terrified for Elisa he was. "We're not quite sure yet," he admitted, forcing himself to continue looking through various papers. "She was trying to get a stolen shipment of particle-beam weaponry off the street." He paused for a moment, once more trying to control his voice as it threatened to break. "It was…very important to her."

"Where is she?" Hudson demanded.

Owen stood and calmly--always so calm, he thought bitterly--placed papers in his briefcase. "Manhattan General," he answered blandly. "Pardon me." he added, pushing through the Gargoyles to walk to the door. 

He could stay in this office no longer. He _had_ to go to the hospital and see Elisa. It was driving him mad, not knowing what had happened to her. One way or another, he was going to see her, even if he had to transform into the Puck and sneak in. 

The drive to Manhattan General was long and nerve-wracking for Owen. The New York traffic seemed worse than it had ever been before, and Puck screamed in his mind to let her out, let her simply transport them there in a mere moment. Owen remained adamant, however. He would not give in to Puck in this instance, he needed the time to calm himself, even if it was only marginal. It wouldn't do for him to go into the hospital in a frenzy and then start punching nurses and doctors aside on a whim. Much as he was tempted by that idea, he was not about to give in to the insane desire.

When he finally reached the hospital, it was so late at night that almost no one beyond the doctors and nurses were there. The waiting room was empty of visitors waiting for the chance to see loved ones who were somewhere in the hospital. Owen was grateful for that much. He didn't know if he could stand sitting in the waiting room with several other nervous relatives and friends of various patients at the hospital. 

Sighing heavily, Owen made his way to the front desk. The nurse sitting there was pretty; blonde and probably just out of medical school judging by how young she was. Owen waited until she noticed him to speak.

"Pardon me. Could you tell me where Detective Elisa Maza is?" he asked in his usual quiet tone. "I wish to see her."

The nurse looked him over, clearly noting that due to his coloring he could not be related in any way to Elisa, and shook her head. "I'm afraid that she's in intensive care," she said with an apologetic look. "Only family is allowed there. What is your relationship with Detective Maza?"

Owen gritted his teeth at the question. "I'm her--her ex," he said, the words leaving a bad aftertaste in his mouth as he pulled out his ID card. "You don't understand, Miss. I _have_ to see her."

After checking his ID and clearly recognizing his name, judging by how wide her eyes grew, she looked back up at Owen. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Burnett," she said, very clearly meaning it. "But at this point, it wouldn't matter if you were _God_. I still can't let you in to see her."

Were he the sort of person who was used to screaming when frustrated, Owen would have given in to that impulse at the moment. This was infuriating! Did this girl not see how badly he needed to ensure that Elisa was well and safe?! But before he could voice his arguments, there was a great clamoring as the nurse behind the desk and several others ran through the halls to another room. Panic gripped Owen's chest, something that he was unused to feeling, and he followed after the nurses to the room.

To his horror, he found Elisa in the room, the machine attached to her making an ominous, continuous keening sound. No…no, no, no…

"Code blue! Code blue! ICU!" 

The blonde nurse rushed to the machine and looked pale. "Flat line! No pulse!"

Owen felt sick and leaned heavily against the door frame as the doctor turned to a nurse beside him. "Epinephrine," he ordered firmly, using an enormous needle to inject the medicine into Elisa.

"Still flat," the nurse informed him, her face still drawn.

"Get the paddles," the doctor ordered. 

For a moment, all Owen could hear or see was the still form of Elisa and that continuous keening beep that signaled her heart was not working. This couldn't be happening. Not to Elisa. She was stronger than this…she had to come back.

"Clear!"

Owen watched Elisa's body jerk painfully as the electric charge from the defibrillator shot through her, and the long wailing beep turned into a pinging sound. The blonde nurse sighed in relief and managed a smile.

"Got her."

Relief flooded through Owen's body, making his legs weak. He was vaguely aware of the kind nurse guiding him away from the room and explaining that he couldn't be there, that Elisa's family would be returning and he should leave them alone with her. That didn't matter anymore. Elisa would survive at least a little longer. The sound of his pager beeping pulled Owen back to reality and he set his jaw. It was time to meet with Dracon about the guns. This was the last thing he wanted to do, but it had to be done.

Turning to the kind nurse who had spoken to him earlier, Owen cleared his throat. "Miss…" he started, scrambling for a name, unable to remember if she had told it to him.

"Call me Judy, Mr. Burnett," she said sweetly, smiling at him. "She's going to be okay. I'm sure of it. Most other people would have crashed sooner and far worse than she did after an injury like that."

Small hope, but a hope nonetheless and Owen was grateful to Judy for giving it to him. He managed one of his rare, slight smiles and handed her his business card. "Thank you. Please, call me if there is any change."

Judy glanced at the card and nodded. "I will. And…" she glanced around before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially with him. "I could get in trouble for this, but if you like, when you come back I could try to get you into the room for at least a few minutes."

The sudden urge to kiss Judy seized Owen, but he managed to rein it in. Barely. Puck was practically screaming at him to do so. Instead, he nodded politely and thanked the kind young woman again before walking stiffly out the door. He had a man to see about some guns.


	2. Reunions

I woke up to the feeling that I'd been hit in the gut with a sledge hammer. Or maybe a pick axe wielded by Paul Bunyan. One of the two. In the background I was vaguely aware of machines whirring and beeping, and there was a slight ache in the back of my left hand. Even though I was awake, I didn't want to open my eyes and actually see why I was in so much pain all over. 

Sadly, the human memory is a fickle thing, and while I was trying my hardest to not remember what had happened to me, the memories came flooding back.

It had been a typical evening at home for me. I was cooking up a steak for myself when Broadway stopped by on his way to the castle. Of all the Gargoyles, Broadway was the one that I felt closest to in a sisterly way. He was very sweet and naïve, which was refreshing after spending all day with hardened and cynical cops. So I'd been quick to offer to cook up a couple more steaks while he was there and spend the evening chatting with him. I was vaguely aware of him goofing around behind me when there was a loud bang and then a sharp pain in my middle. After that, I remembered nothing until I woke up to find my family all around me in a hospital room.

Broadway had explained everything to me after my parents and brother left. He had been playing with my gun--which I had been stupid enough to leave out and loaded--and it had accidentally gone off, hitting me. If it were any rookie cop, I would have been furious with them, but Broadway didn't know better. He'd been in a stone stasis for a thousand years and didn't understand the dangers of guns. So, it had been easy for me to forgive him. After all, I couldn't hold his ignorance against him.

This time, when I woke up, neither my family nor any of the Gargoyles were in the room with me. There wasn't even a nurse or doctor there. Instead, sitting in a chair pulled up close beside the bed, was Owen Burnett, my ex-boyfriend.

For a moment, all I could do was stare and hope that he didn't realize I was awake. He had a book in his hands, but I could tell that he wasn't really reading it. For one thing, he hadn't turned a page in the time since my eyes opened, and his eyes weren't even moving. But he also didn't appear to realize that I was awake, as his gaze was fixed on the book in his hands. This gave me ample opportunity to both relax, and observe.

Owen looked practically the same as the last time I had seen him when he came to the precinct to tell Captain Chavez and I about particle-beam weaponry that had been stolen from Xanatos Enterprises. At least, he did at first glance. Then I looked again and realized that Owen looked like hell. There were bags under his eyes, his jaw was clenched tight and covered by a slight five o'clock shadow, his hands shook almost imperceptibly, and he had actually loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. I had never seen Owen like this before in the months that I had known him. He'd never so much as loosened his tie in my presence, even when we were dating. I'd had to do the loosening for him when we were alone.

Was all this because of me?

It couldn't be. Owen was more level-headed than to let his appearance suffer because I had gotten myself put in a hospital. After all, we'd been broken up for almost six months. He had to be over me by now.

 _Right. Because you are_ clearly _over_ him, I thought bitterly.

Much as I hated to admit it, my thoughts were correct. I wasn't over Owen, no matter how much I tried to act like I was. Not that I'd tell _him_ that. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction to know just how much he'd affected me. 

To be blunt, he'd ruined me for anyone else. Yes, Owen was practically a robot in his work, but when it came to our relationship there was a different side to him. He was still controlled and almost painfully proper, but he was softer, gentler. I didn't really know how to explain what he was like when we were alone together. He never completely let down his hair--or undid his tie--as it were, but he was much more open than he ever was in public. And he'd done a thousand little things to make me fall for him. He'd send me chocolates once a week at work, come over to my apartment after I'd had a bad day just to let me know that I wasn't alone, and so many other things. It was a wonder I hadn't fallen for him _sooner_ , really. And now he was here, in my hospital room, clearly concerned for me.

I didn't know what to do about this situation I had woken up to find myself in. Glancing out the window, I noticed that it had to be sometime around midday, so there wasn't really any chance of the Gargoyles or my family getting me out of this mess. Damn it. The last thing I wanted to happen while I was hooked up to an IV and a few medical machines was to have to deal with my ex-boyfriend. But it looked like that was what going to happen, whether I wanted it to or not.

Some people just never get a break, I swear.

Apparently my slight movement when I turned to look at the window had alerted Owen to the fact that I was awake, because when I looked back at him, I was met by a pair of unbelievably pale blue eyes staring right at me. Oh joy.

For an almost impossibly long time, Owen and I stared at one another without speaking. I didn't even realize I was tensed up as though ready to bolt until he touched my wrist lightly and my muscles contracted even more. Damn him, now I was going to have a stress headache in addition to all my already existing aches and pains. But I refused to relax at all as I stared intently into his pale eyes. I wasn't about to be the first to speak, either, so I set my jaw defiantly and waited for him to speak.

"I am _so_ sorry," he said quietly, his voice sounding much rougher than I had ever heard it before. "Elisa…"

I turned my face away from him, the tears suddenly threatening to spill out of my eyes if I wasn't careful. I don't know how he managed to do it, but Owen was the only man who could make me cry like this without doing anything but apologizing. Or saying my name. I still wasn't sure which had brought tears to my eyes this time. It took me a minute, but I finally managed to speak around the lump in my throat.

"I can't do this."

Not exactly what I had intended to say, but I really didn't know what I _had_ wanted to say when I first opened my mouth. 

"Can't do what?" Owen pressed gently, his fingers thankfully no longer on my wrist. I couldn't have thought clearly with him touching me.

I didn't know what to say! I couldn't let him see that, though, and I was silent for a moment as I tried to figure out what to say next.

"I can't--deal with this," I said lamely, using my right hand to indicate the two of us. "Owen--I've been _shot_! I'm just not up to this."

He looked as though I had just slapped him, his already pale face growing even paler as he stared at me. Slowly, he rose to his feet and nodded stiffly to me. "Of course. I will not trouble you any further, Detective Maza," he said in that crisp tone he used when he was being professional. Then he turned to leave. As he stood, he paused and fixed me with one of his coldest looks. "But before I go, I hope you will understand when I tell you that I have been sabotaging Mr. Xanatos' work against your Gargoyle friends. I've been ensuring that none of his plots turn lethal." Before I could recover from my shock at this, he continued. "And I did it because it was the _right thing to do_."

His words were like a slap to the face, but I tried to hide that fact. He couldn't be telling me the truth. He'd lied before, after all. But, if he wasn't lying…I looked up to see that he was still leaving.

No! I thought wildly. I couldn't just let him walk away like this! I didn't know what I intended to accomplish by asking that he stay, but my mouth was forming the words before I could stop to think this through in any way.

"Owen--wait--" One of these days, my big mouth was going to get me in trouble. Not today, though, it seemed, as Owen _did_ stop at the door, his hand on the doorknob, clearly ready to turn it at a moment's notice. "Please, stay," I whispered, once more before I knew what I was saying.

I watched him with baited breath as he kept his hand on the doorknob for a few moments. Finally, he released it and turned back to me, his expression seemingly calm, but I saw the pain in his eyes. Seeing that was almost like a physical blow to me, and for a minute it felt as though there was a huge weight on my chest preventing me from breathing properly. When I finally regained my ability to inhale, I closed my eyes tightly, a few tears trailing down my cheeks.

"This is all your fault," I sighed. "If you hadn't--then we wouldn't--"

I'd lost the ability to form a coherent sentence now. Great. This was what this man did to me, the bastard. And he just _stood_ there, as though he hadn't broken my heart. When I couldn't find the words to finish what I had been trying to say, I shook my head helplessly and just looked at him, defying him to defend himself now.

"Elisa," he whispered, and the way he said my name was filled with almost as much pain as I was feeling. "I never meant to hurt you…"

"Well, you did," I snapped. "Do you know what that _did_ to me?"

"No--I don't know," he admitted frankly. "But I do know what it did to _me_ to lose you." He sat down again beside me and took my right hand--the one not connected to the IV--in both of his. "And I will never do that again. To either of us. Elisa--" He paused for a moment, and I swear I could see him struggling with himself to say the next words. "I love you, Elisa."

I felt as though someone had dumped me out of my hospital bed and onto the floor. Owen Burnett had just told me that he loved me. When had _that_ happened? When had he started loving me? No. I must be dreaming. He couldn't have said what I thought he'd said to me. I moved my left hand to pinch my side and was greeted by twin twinges of pain from my side and the back of my hand where the needle was shoved under my skin. This wasn't a dream.

Then another realization hit me with all the force of a freight train. I hadn't just fallen for Owen Burnett; I loved him too. That was why I hadn't been able to get over him in the last five months. I _couldn't_ get over him. My heart wouldn't let me do that to myself, or to him. 

Staring at Owen for a moment, I made a few very undignified choking sounds before I managed to regain control of my vocal chords again for long enough to answer him. 

"I--Owen--" At least I'd thought I'd regained control. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Owen, do you mean that?"

God, I couldn't even get _that_ right. Owen looked at me intensely, his eyes seeming to try and burn a hole through my chest and straight into my soul as he tightened his fingers around my right hand.

"I do," he said with all the conviction of a man determined to never lose something again. "I mean it, Elisa."

Once more I did my best to rally up the courage to respond. He deserved a response after that beautiful declaration, after all.

"I love you too."


End file.
